3814 Winter Olympics
by The 8th Stone
Summary: In which Alfred and Arthur are reporters for the 3814 Winter Olympics, America and England celebrate their 317th anniversary, and holographic technology astonishes all. -For UsUk Summer Olympics 2012-


**a/n:** Originally written for the 2012 UsUk Summer Olympics speed-fic challenge. The prompt was "Winter Olympics."

Also, for those who usually read my Naruto works—yes, this is BL. If you're not comfortable with gay pairings, you should probably leave.  
I have no comments on my other fanfiction updates. I'm sorry.

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_**3814 Winter Olympics**_

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"And this is the 3814 Winter Olympics, here, live in New York, New York, U.K.S.!"

"Thank you very much, Alfred. For those of you who have just gotten back from work or have missed the first half of the opening ceremony, we apologize for that, for it was truly a spectacle to see."

"You got that right, Arthur! A thousand faux-ice snowflakes, as large as airplanes yet as light as a feather, raining down from the sky? The scene is something I never even dreamed of! It is a pity that they will have to melt."

"Yes. That is the proof of the New York engineering progress, and the things human beings can achieve when we put our minds into it."

"Mm-hm . . . Say, Arthur, now that we're done with the opening ceremony, what do you look forward to the most?"

"Well, a lot of things. The sports, of course, but also the athletes. There are many young, promising men and woman that hail from the Kingdom-States. I am especially looking forward to see them performing their best at such an international stage."

"Pft, c'mon! Not that I don't love the athletes, but that's such a boring, rehearsed answer! We're supposed to be making this break fun for everyone! Next thing you know, you'll be at a long speech about the longstanding tradition of the Olympics, Artie."

"Hm, and just _what_ is wrong about tradition, _Alfred_? History is a fascinating subject. Many of us have forgotten, but the first Olympics were not, in fact, held a thousand and a hundred-some so years ago. The first Olympic game dates back much farther than that. It was held in Ancient Greece—"

"My friends in the audience, I sincerely apologize for my co-reporter here. As you see, he still very much follows the traditions like drinking tea with a kettle or eating those nasty things we call scones—"

"_They are perfectly fine_—Uh, I-I meant—I—Come here, Alfred."

("Sure. Why did you take off our microphones?"

"You have to divert the topic at once. This is the Olympics, not some twenty-first century sitcom. It's completely unprofessional!"

"Ah, don't worry so much. I'm sure the audience doesn't mind. We're probably creating some sort of entertainment in this dull break."

"I—Bloody hell. Just do as I say. Do you _want_ to get yelled at by Mr. Beilschimdt again?"

"Okay, okay, fine . . .")

"I'm sorry for the sudden break, folks. We were just having some technical difficulties—"

"Murder of comedy. Ahem."

"—sorted out. Please excuse us. _Alfred_, would you _please_ do me the favor of announcing what is happening right now?"

"Sure. As you can see, intermission is now over! Thank goodness. And now we get to see the second half of the opening ceremonies! Oh, what is this? The stadium suddenly grew dark. They are turning off all light, and . . . Huh. Hold on, hold your horses, hold your breaths—people, I think . . . Good Lord . . . is that . . . is that what I think it is?"

"I . . . do think so, Alfred."

"You can hear everyone in the audience hushing. Everyone is focusing on the center podium."

"There is a flickering of light, like a small lightning flash across the dark, stormy—"

"No need to quote Shakespeare here, my good friend."

"Ah, yes. Well, anyway, the crowd seems to be holding its breath in anticipation. If this truly is what we think it is, then—"

"Another flash!"

"Yes. And this time, it seems to be taking a certain . . . shape. It can't possibly be . . . can it?"

"For the people in front of your television, I advise you to turn up the volume. There is some very fitting dramatic music playing in the background."

"Oh, god! Light is now shining down in the center—but it's not _shining_ down, it's . . . taking a form? It's spinning—and swirling—turning into a sphere! It's—"

"A hologram, Arthur! It's a hologram!"

"This is technology ingenuity! A hologram this size has never been seen, ever!"

"And now it's taking the form of a . . . human?"

"Yes. Oh, the Olympic committee just likes to keep us guessing, don't they? Those bloody, wonderful gits. It's a human—clearer than daylight. Oh, look at him go. His hair is materializing—taking shape slowly . . . The details are remarkable. What is this? Two thin lines forming on his face . . . ?

"Eyes!"

"Eyes! Green eyes!"

"A beautiful green."

"I suppose so . . . ? Oh, will you look at that! Clothes, I'm guessing, are forming . . . Amazing! One second there was nothing, and another second it's there! Like magic! If I'm not mistaken, the design is modeled after the flag of the United Kingdom, before its merging with the United States. The colors are vibrant and beautiful down to every last pixel."

"You know, Arthur, that man looks incredibly like you. The eyebrows, especially."

"Yes, yes, _whatever_. What exactly is the meaning of this? What is the significance of showcasing a man in a gigantic hologram?"

"Oh, wait, but there's more! Another man sudden appeared in the hologram!"

"The crowd is cheering madly, and I can see why. This second man, he is wearing a shirt that clearly displays the American flag. Like the green-eyed man's clothes, it is modeled after the flag before the merging of the United Kingdom and United States. This second man . . . blue eyes, blond hair? A stereotype of idiot Yankees?"

"Hey!"

"Again, the detail is remarkable. It's as if two giants are now standing here, right in front of our eyes! It is a spectacular sight."

"I think they seem to be the personifications of America and England."

"I agree. Wait—what is America doing?"

"He seems to be—Let me take over the announcing from here, Arthur."

"Of course."

"The personification of America is kneeling down in front of England's feet, holding out a small . . . box? Oh, haha, it seems that the audience has figured it out before we did. This is America proposing to England!"

"Today _is_ the three-hundred-and-seventeenth anniversary of the merging. My goodness, with all the excitement of the Olympics, I've forgotten about it."

"Oh, but wait, people. It seems that—Oh, this is hilarious! England has just rejected America! I don't even know if I should laugh or feel sorry for that fellow. There is scattered laughter, but there are also people making 'awww' noises here in the stadium. Guess the poor guy will just have to try again."

"Idiot. Of course England is not rejecting America because he doesn't like him."

"Oh? How do you know that?"

"Hmph, just see for yourself. Well, anyway—for those who are not very familiar with our country's history, the United Kingdom first rejected the United States' idea of a merging, even though they very well depended on each other for everything from commerce to national security. But as we all know—"

"Oh, forget about that! What just happened was amazing! Previously, there had only been two figures in this gigantic hologram. Now . . . The background is beautiful! How did they even do that?"

"There are flowers and—and the suspending pearls in the air! And the candlelight! And the music!"

"I never knew you were into that kind of stuff, Arthur."

"Oh, stop laughing. Look! The hologram-England is gazing into America's eyes. He's even blushing . . ."

"And America presents the ring once more . . ."

"And he opens his mouth, preparing to . . . speak?"

". . ."

". . ."

"That was hilarious! Oh, haha, I can't even keep my face straight! That was—hahahaha!"

"If you just missed it. The personification of England just said, 'Took you long enough to pick it up, idiot.'"

"Ah, even though I can't stop laughing, I can't help but feel a little sorry for poor America. I mean, he probably thought about this long and hard, but then . . . rejected twice!"

"Hush, I think England is saying something else."

"He is . . . ? Oh, he said yes! He said yes! And now their clothes have both turned into tuxedoes . . . and the scene changed into a church . . . and there is a priest—Good Lord, is England old-fashioned or what?—and then . . . They kissed!"

"Sparks are flying in the air—literal sparks. Oh, and the hologram has faded away, sadly. That scene itself must've cost planning committee millions. It left a bright sign: 'Happy Anniversary, England!' the sign said. This is certainly very sweet of America. And it's just like the Yankees to make such a big, flashy show out of it."

"Heh, Arthur, I'm sure England appreciates this, though."

"Hm, I suppose so."

"Hey, want to have dinner together tonight?"

"Sure, I guess so . . . I wonder what is happening now that the hologram—_W-what did you just say?_"

"And that's it for the first segment of the second half, people! Now let's cut into a commercial break!"


End file.
